


Spilled

by Oh_Snapcrackle



Series: Canon Challenges / Prompts [4]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Atonement - Freeform, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, F/M, Feels, Jedi Rey, Jedi Temple, Jedi Training, Kylo Ren Angst, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Kylo Ren Redemption, New Jedi Order, POV Ben Solo, Redeemed Ben Solo, Reylo - Freeform, Reylo Weekly Challenge, Younglings, jedi academy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 06:39:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14255145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oh_Snapcrackle/pseuds/Oh_Snapcrackle
Summary: Kylo has one of his first lessons with his younglings at the new academy and one of them gets hurt. He has flashbacks. Rey has to step in. Short ficlet.Written in response to the “First Blood” challenge from @two-halves-of-reylo.





	Spilled

**Author's Note:**

> It has been some time since I've written fanfiction, and reylo just happened to drag me under. After seeing the "First Blood" challenge from @two-halves-of-reylo this came to mind. Hopefully, you will enjoy and let me know what you think!

* * *

 

He has dreaded this moment since first agreeing to the position.

 

Feared it, truthfully.

 

Since the time Rey offered her hand and he accepted the opportunity to help build a new academy for the force sensitives of the galaxy, he has known this day was coming. He is a bit surprised it hasn’t happened before now. Then again he has done everything to prevent it, and in doing so has probably made it worse for himself and for his younglings.

 

He knew his students would need to learn pain. Jedi get hurt. A lot. There would be times during training that they would hurt each other, or that he might even hurt them. It was the nature of the force, light or dark. When you work with swords made of scalding light someone was bound to spill some blood. Usually lots of blood. Rivers of it. 

 

But he had worked tirelessly for months preparing them with wooden training swords, meditation, and everything but sabers. He made their bodies ache and groan, instilling in their muscles the memories of each form until they could do it with their eyes closed and half in trance. The force was only half of the skills required to be an adequate lightsaber user. The other half was physical and mental strength - just like any warrior.

 

Part of being a warrior was harnessing the pain becoming familiar with the blood in hopes a Jedi wouldn’t freeze on the field and lose their life. More than anything he wanted to protect these little ones the way he had never been protected. He wanted to ensure they never froze or lost a hand due to his inability to teach them. They would learn every form, every skill, to help them survive.

 

But gods, he dreaded the moment they spilled first blood.

 

He _feels_ it happen before it even occurs and he feels like he has been dumped in a vat of quicksand. His body is straining to move but everything around him is slowing down. He reaches the girl in what feels like minutes but is probably only seconds. Usually, he can push the students back before one of them gets hurt, but he had been too distracted this time, too lost in his own musings. He had given in to the complacency of the usual. Its been weeks of training with only scratches and bruises to show for it, and he let his guard down. He had majorly fucked up and now there were rivers of blood.

 

One of the younglings, Ruck, is standing in shock above their sparring partner. His practice saber has fallen to the ground and his eyes are wide with fear. His partner, a little girl named Lora, is curled in on herself cradling her arm that is gushing blood. It's pooling just under her, forming a small lake that ripples every time another drop hits.

 

Plop. Plop.

 

Gathering the youngling up in his arms without thinking. She lets out a groan of pain, and curls inward more. He looks down and sees the arm, all smeared red and so covered he can’t see the wound. He freezes.

 

Someone calls his name, but their voice falls back as a disappearing echo as he crashes down into the past.

 

Flames lick at his robes from the charred remains of stone and thatch, all that is left of the jedi academy he called home for years. Moaning corpses and little fingers stick out of the rubble as they reach outward for salvation. He steps back, horrified as they creep closer, shucking pillars of ash and stone to reach him. 

 

Something behind him captures his attention, and he seeks a tall back figure cast in metal looming over a youngling girl. A green saber is poised just over her as she turns her back to run. She catches his eye for a second and he realizes it is Lora, his current youngling, before the green saber slices her in half. Blood sprays across the fallen stone, the ground, and his face just before the girl collapses on the ground. He starts to step back, feels the hands on his feet, and stills.

 

Blood wells from Lora’s mouth spilling across the bricks, thick and black. It grows and grows, more and more of it spilling until it falls from the rubble to his feet like rapids over rocks. Fingers and limbs churn within it as if the river is half liquid and half flesh. It crashes along the channels left by the downed temple, seeking. It has a mind of its own, grasping and clinging to things, pulling younglings and teachers under and drowning them. Everything falls before it. Hands. Sabers. Skulls. Stone. It churns and runs, pouring over every crack until it gathers to crest just above his head. It pauses letting him hear the screams of all the bodies it has collected, just like all the voices he heard the day the republic burned. Its the rage of thousands of dead generations.

 

Atone. Atone. Atone. They scream and wail.

 

The tidal wave crashes down on him, hands and limbs grabbing and pulling. Blood and plasma, rivers of it, crash and beat down all around him.

 

“Ben!”

 

The wave disappears as does the rest of the vision as sharp but familiar slip of the force cuts into his mind. It pushes away the vision like one would clear cobwebs.

 

Rey.

 

He comes floating back to reality to see he is still clutching the little girl. His hands are white where he is gripping, and she is pressed hard against his chest. Rey is next to him, arms gathered around his shoulders and a hand on his head. She is pushing back some of his hair, calling his name softly and stroking his arms.

 

“Ben, its okay. It's done. Let go.”

 

Her warm brown eyes are willing him to look at them, and he feels his muscles relax. A warm, understanding smile forms on her lips and she holds out her arms. Without a word he carefully untangles the youngling and hands her to Rey. Sitting back, he turns his head as his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

 

He can hear Rey speaking softly to the girl, checking her wound and then clicking her tongue.

 

“A lot of blood for such a little wound. Go on to Rose, she will fix you up. Ruck will you walk with Lora?”

 

He hears the pattering of the two youngling’s feet as they scurry off to the medical room. Rey’s hand falls back on his shoulder as she dismisses the rest of the class, he doesn’t hear what she tells them. He does feel the hesitation of a few of them to leave, and one even takes a few steps and quietly stands there.

 

He hears the boy take in a deep breath, concern in his voice: “Is Master Solo okay?”

 

“He will be fine. Just a bad memory. Go ahead, now.”

 

When they are all gone, Rey slides down to sit next to him. She leans her body against his side in a half hug. One arm reaches around his back, not all the way, but he melts into the embrace anyway. He is still shaking.

 

“Did I hurt her?” He manages to choke out.

 

“No, just startled her.”

 

He drops his head into his hands, covering his face. For how long he stays like that he isn’t sure. Eventually, he pushes his hands through his hair and lets out a shaky breath.

 

“I don’t think I can do this.”

 

The hand that was around his waist slides up his back and starts making comforting circles.

 

“What did you see?”

 

“The training temple when I burned it. Or something like that.”

 

“Could you show me?” She holds out her other hand, the one not making little circles on his back. Though he can’t see her face, he knows she has one eyebrow raised in question. Its that look she always gets when she is trying to understand him.

 

The same look that either broke him or freed him - he still isn’t sure which one it was.

 

“You don’t want to see this, Rey.” He whispers.

 

She keeps her hand there, even nudges it toward him. He reaches out to their bond, flits on the edge of it as he has done so many times when he needs her reassurance. He feels her need to understand him, to help him, and to take away his pain. 

 

It is the last bit that makes him hesitate. He deserves this pain. She doesn’t.

 

Rey feels his hesitation and lets out a huff. Its soft, not the usual huff she reserves for him being annoying or doing something stupid.

 

“Ben, I’ve seen you at your worst. I’ve seen the nightmares you have. As I’ve told you countless times since you agreed to this, I’m not backing down. You won’t have to face your demons alone.”

 

Her hand is insistent this time, and he feels the little bit of compulsion she shoves at his mental walls. He smirks - a little hint of pride swelling in his chest. Rey has learned so fast.

 

He takes her hand and shows her.

 

Rivers of blood. Waves of retribution made of limbs and smoke. Destruction and death all at his hands, and the atonement that must follow. When the tide comes for him, this time Rey is standing beside him gripping his hand tightly. It washes over and clings like it did before. Pain laces through them, and like feedback across a communication system Ben feels Rey trembling. Then it is gone as soon as it came and they are back in the training room, both panting heavily.

 

“Force, Ben.”

 

“Like I said, I don’t think I can do this.”

 

A thick silence falls over them, but Rey’s hand keeps making soothing circles on his back and now her other hand is resting just above his knee repeating the same circles. The tenseness in his body slowly starts to leave, and his shoulders slump. He leans further into her, seeking comfort. Eventually, their breaths equalize. It isn’t until then that Rey decides to speak. Her voice is low and calm.

 

“Ben, this is exactly why you have to do this. This is your atonement. Force knows you were meant to be a teacher. These younglings need you. Not just to teach them the forms or the meditations, but to also teach them your mistakes. Because they are going to make mistakes, too. Perhaps if we show them where we went wrong, and we show them they are loved, and they still go too far or make horrible decisions they can look back on us and see we tried to overcome all of our horrors, that we tried to be better. And maybe, just maybe, they will try to do the same.”

 

She squeezes his knee and then makes to get up. She brushes the dirt off the robes he hates so much, the ones that she had modeled after her robes from Jakku. They are newer, cleaner, but it reminds him of the horrible past she endured. However, when he looks past the rags, he still considers them such, he sees that which he is lacking. Rey has learned how to embrace her past.

 

She must have heard that thought across the bond because she gives him that sweet mysterious smile of hers before holding out her hand. It warms him, this most intimate gesture between them. Its the same as when the force bridged their minds across the galaxy and he held out a hand. Just like when they were in the throne room. Just like he did for nearly two years after that, until one day she finally reached out to him.

 

He hadn’t hesitated then, just like he doesn’t hesitate now.

 

Standing, he grasps her hand and covers it with his own. Of course, he still towers over her, and she has to reach up to push some of his hair out of his face.

 

“Not alone, remember?” She whispers before she tugs on his hand. She is pulling him out of the room, toward the medical room. Its time to face the sight of the first blood his younglings have spilled.

 

He doesn’t think he could see more of it, fears seeing them years later standing in the ruins of this academy in rivers of their own making. The tug of Rey’s hand brings him back to the present and he pushes down the panic. At least he wouldn’t have to face that future alone.

 

 


End file.
